


Be More Chill

by literatiruinedme



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betty and Jughead stop talking for a little while, F/M, Jason Blossom Lives, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Jughead cries in this one, Recreational Drug Use, be more chill references, friends to strangers to friends, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literatiruinedme/pseuds/literatiruinedme
Summary: Betty and Jughead run into each other in the bathroom at the annual Blossom Halloween party.





	Be More Chill

**Author's Note:**

> and the [mood board](https://imgur.com/vnjvyFb)
> 
> shocker, I wrote another fic based on a song from a musical. (Technically this one is more inspired by a song, but still.)

Jughead didn’t know how he got roped into going to a party.

Well, Archie was entirely to blame, but Archie didn’t go to parties- or at least, he didn’t go to them not that long ago. Now he was  _ cool _ \- maybe not cool, but he was getting there by the looks of it -so they  _ had _ to go.

(And yes, they absolutely had to. He had tried to argue his way out of it, but Archie hadn’t budged despite almost a week of begging, pleading, and even faking sick.)

Up close, Thornhill was more, for lack of a better word,  _ terrifying _ .

The cast iron gates guarding the front of the property had a large family crest in the center with  _ Latin _ on it for fuck’s sake.  _ Radices Currere Abyssi _ . After a little googling, he rolled his eyes at the translation:  _ Roots Run Deep _ , how very Blossom.

Large stones lined the outside of the house and red brick accented the towering walls. Vines slithered up trellises and walls making the whole place look like the set of a film that definitely ended without a final girl. The fact that the large mansion seemed to be an eternity from the rest of town- as if he could scream and no one would ever hear it -made it even more intimidating.

Distance from town sounded like a con as well as a pro when a drunk football player barreled between him and Archie, screaming about beer.

“Why are we at this party?”

Archie waved to someone, smiling brightly despite how hard Jughead was glaring at him. “We just got here, Jug, it’s not that bad.”

“Yeah- screaming, beer, music I don’t listen to, people I don’t talk to,” he listed, counting each point off on his fingers as he spoke. “This is totally my scene, my bad.”

Archie rolled his eyes. “Stop being dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic,” Jughead said, growing frustrated. “Why the fuck would you bring me to this place?”

“Just chill out, man.”

Jughead wanted to argue, but he quickly realized they’d just keep circling back to Archie telling him to quit bitching. Jughead swallowed at the sight of obliviously drunken football players hitting on cheerleaders.

They walked further into the mansion, only finding more sweaty, drunken students milling about in every room they went.

Jughead froze as they passed by what looked like a study, distracted by a flash of blonde hair. He felt his heart in his throat when he noticed Archie was no longer next to him. Jughead scanned the room, gritting his teeth when he noticed he was officially alone.

He felt a surge of relief when he noticed a set of metal doors.  _ Kitchen _ . Maybe he could hide in-

“Hobo, what on earth are you doing here?” Cheryl asked from behind him, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

He swallowed, forcing himself to turn, an obviously fake smile on his lips. “Hi, Cheryl.”

“Who invited you?” Cheryl asked, no longer playing the part of gracious host. 

Jughead paused as he thought about how out Archie as his escort may hurt him. “Friend of a friend,” he lied. “I've been searching, but I can't find him.”

Cheryl hummed, unconvinced. “Who’s your friend?”

_ Fuck. _

“Oh, well. Um, I need-”  _ A place to hide. _ He smiled when he saw someone leaving what looked like a bathroom. “To pee. Excuse me,” he said, slipping out of Cheryl’s grasp to quickly power walk to the door, locking it as he leaned back against the solid wood.

He took a deep breath, listening to the party dully drone on outside the door before he sank down to the floor, resting his forehead on his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore how they stung. “Fuck,” he muttered around a lump in his throat.

He looked up when a few tears snuck by, dampening the knees of his jeans. He slammed his fist against the ground in frustration. “Fuck!” he shouted. He tensed, covering his mouth as if he could take back the noise. His chest burned when he realized he was probably the quietest person at the party. He might as well not exist.

The thought sent him spiralling.

Tears immediately flooded his vision before flowing down his face. He pressed his palms into his eyes, sobbing as he curled in on himself, muffling the sound.

Archie, his supposed best friend, didn’t give a fuck about him. He’d left Jughead alone because someone  _ cooler _ wanted his attention.

Despite spending thirty-seven and a half hours a week squeezed into a classroom with them, Jughead knew no one at this party- but Archie just  _ had _ to drag him along. Jughead had been stranded in a sea of people, left defenceless to the likes of Cheryl Blossom and anyone else who wanted a piece of him.

He had been a sitting  _ duck _ .

He bit the collar of his shirt, grinding it between his teeth as he willed himself to stop crying.

He wanted to hit something, but the rational part of his brain reminded him that this wasn’t his house- and even if it was, he needed to not be so extra.

He stopped crying, slowly releasing the fabric of his shirt, opening and closing his stiff jaw before he wiped his cheeks.

He laid down on his side, closing his eyes as he rested his temple against the cool, smooth surface of the floor. The cold sent a pleasant shock through him, encouraging him to roll onto his stomach so his forehead was pressed to the floor. He sighed happily letting his entire body relax into the hard ground, a small bath mat wedged under his hip.

Someone knocked.

His eyes shot open. He scrambled to his feet, groaning when he saw how puffy and red his eyes were in the mirror, bright splotches all over his cheeks. 

The knocking continued before the person at the door tried the handle.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly turning on the tap. He cupped his hands under the freezing water, waiting until the reservoir he’d made was nearly full before he splashed it onto his face. He shut the water off and rubbed his eyes, feeling around for a hand towel.

He’d just pressed the fluffy towel to his face when the knocking stopped. He pulled it away, ignoring droplets on the edge of his chin as he looked at the door in wonder. His shoulders slumped as he pressed his face into the rag.

Sounds about right.

He dried his face, angrily throwing the towel next to the sink just as the door swung open. His eyes went wide when Betty Cooper tumbled in, a bobby pin in her hand.

“Betty?”

“Juggie?” She cocked her head to the side, smiling before she noticed his face. She opened her arms, as if to hug him, but paused. She suddenly looked very green. “Oh no.” She ran the short distance to the toilet, quickly falling to her knees before the bowl. She wretched before emptying the contents of her stomach into the bowl.

He shut and locked the door, rushing over to kneel beside her. He reached out to gather her hair in his hand, resting his free hand between her shoulders and rubbed his hand back and forth slowly.

She flushed the toilet before resting her cheek on her forearm, facing him as she caught her breath. She almost looked peaceful with her eyes closed, like she was only sleeping. The sheen of sweat over her forehead was the only thing that gave her away. Her face screwed up in discomfort as she groaned, sitting down next to the toilet. She leaned into his chest, curling in on herself as he tumbled onto his ass.

He hesitated before wrapping his arms around her.

She relaxed, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Sorry,” she muttered softly. “I got a little too lit.”

He chortled despite himself before squeezing her frame. “You’re okay?” he asked, awkwardly maneuvering his legs out on either side of her. 

She nodded against his chest. “Give me a minute and I will be.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning his shoulders back against the wall. 

Betty hummed happily, snuggling closer.

His heart pounded in his chest. He closed his eyes, hoping that by some miracle she couldn’t hear it. If she did hear it, she didn’t say anything; instead, she laid silent, her eyes closed. He smiled when he noticed the little smudges of black mascara at the corners of her eyes.

Her eyes fluttered open, scanning the floor of the bathroom as she sat up. She turned to look at him, a bright smile crossing her lips before she leaned in to wrap her arms around him. “I missed you,” she murmured against his chest.

He closed his eyes, sinking into her embrace.

Suddenly he was two years younger, wrapped up in her arms before they both walked their separate ways on the last day of freshman year, empty promises of  _ we’ll hang out this summer! _ exchanged. In reality, he and Archie didn’t speak that summer and Betty never called despite his absence on Elm Street.

No, he couldn’t _ - _ he wouldn't let himself get hurt again. He opened his eyes. “Betty, get off.”

She pulled away, frowning as she looked at him. “Juggie?”

“Just wash your hands and go find another hiding spot. I was here first.”

Her brows furrowed. “Are you hiding out in here?”

“Go away,” he said pointedly.

She scowled, getting up from between his legs before she walked over to the sink, washing her mouth out with water from the faucet. She dried her mouth on the towel before turning to look at him, arms crossed over her chest. “What’s your problem?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your problem,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “Is it with me or the party?”

He frowned, looking at her for a few seconds. He ran his tongue along his front teeth. “Fuck you.”

Betty sighed, shaking her head as she leaned back against the counter. She looked at the door, her shoes, and back at him before pushing off of the counter.

His heart leapt into his throat.  _ Don’t leave. _

Surprisingly- or maybe not surprisingly, because she was  _ Betty _ -she turned to look at him. “I’ll leave if you’re mean to me,” she said as she sat down between his thighs again, mirroring his position as she faced him, her knees bracketing his hips. “What’re you supposed to be dressed as anyway?” she asked, looking down at his denim jacket.

“Someone who wasn’t dragged to a dumb party before being ditched,” he mumbled, hoping she couldn’t hear the bitterness in his voice, though he really didn’t know why he was trying to hide it. He glanced at the cropped flannel she wore, the muted orange and black thread was very festive, but so not Betty Cooper. “You?” He asked, puzzled as he took in her ripped jeans and heavy combat boots. He looked at the strip of skin poking out below her flannel before he met her gaze again, tucking the image away.

She looked...kind of hot.

Betty shrugged her shoulders. “I was going for Buffy Summers, but I don’t know how well I did.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the bashful look on her face. “You did a good job,” he said, resting his hand on her shin.

She smiled, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. She frowned after she scanned his face. “You looked like you were crying when I came in.”

Jughead chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I smoked before I came here.”

She cupped his chin, forcing him to hold her gaze. “Try that again.”

“I’m just high,” he lied. He swallowed when he noticed the frown on her lips.  _ She wasn’t buying it. _ He faked a smile. “Really, I’m fine.”

Betty searched his face for a moment before rising to her feet. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” He asked, shocked as she took his hand in hers, pulling him to his feet. “Wait,  _ we _ ?”

“Yeah,” she said like she would say  _ duh _ . Last he knew, it was too mean in her book, even if it was really what she meant. “You’re clearly upset and I’m not going to let you wallow in someone else’s bathroom all night by yourself.” 

“I don’t need you to fix me.” He yanked his hand back, frowning at the look of hurt on her face when she turned to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered

She reached for his hand again, slowly, like she was trying to tame a frightened animal. “Jughead-”

“No. Don’t.” He took a step back, staying out of her grasp. “Just don’t.”

Betty walked closer, wrapping her arms around him. 

He weakly tried to push her away, but she held him tightly. “Betty-” He grit his teeth when his voice cracked. “Let me go.”

“I was only teasing before,” she said, hugging him tighter as she buried her face in his chest. “I’m not leaving you again.” 

A sob escaped him as his knees grew weak. He dug his fingers into her shoulders as she guided them to the floor, letting him bury his face in the crook of her neck.

She cradled the back of his neck, her thumb slowly rubbing back and forth along his hairline. “You're okay,” she whispered warmly.

He quieted, slowly realizing how they were tangled together on the floor of a bathroom in Thornhill. He tensed immediately, about to pull away when Betty's arms tightened around him.

“You okay?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded, relaxing within her grasp. “Yeah,” he mumbled, frowning at how dry his throat felt. He pulled away slowly, keeping his face hidden as he rose to walk over to the sink. He turned the tap on, cupping a few handfuls of water to drink before splashing his burning eyes. He turned it off, resting his forehead on the cold counter. He jumped when he felt Betty's hand between his shoulders.

“You alright?”

He nodded, unwilling to speak.

Betty hummed, pulling her hand back as she moved around the bathroom. She turned on the tap, dampening a towel before she tapped his shoulder. “Stand up, Juggie.”

“No.”

“Juggie-”

He groaned. “I look like the Crypt Keeper.”

Betty chuckled from beside him. “Everyone looks ugly when they cry. Why would I care?”

He shrugged, still hunched over the countertop. “Maybe I want just wanted to stay here. You ever think about-”

Betty swiped the leg he was putting most of his weight on out from under him, surprising him enough that he lifted his head up. She slapped the towel against his eyes, giggling when he groaned.

“You're a menace.”

“Let me take care of you, cranky.”

He sighed, pressing the cold towel against his face as he stood. “Whatever.”

“That's far less threatening behind a pink towel.”

He chuckled, holding the towel over his face as he cocked his head to the side, pretending he was looking down at her through it.

She huffed, going quiet. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, pulling the towel away when his eyes didn't hurt so much.

She blew on the back of his neck, laughing when he jumped.

“You're a jerk,” he grumbled, turning to face her. 

She smiled, pulling a collapsible water bottle from her purse.

He quirked a brow as he watched her fill it, screw on the cap, and force it into his hands. “Thank you?”

“You're going to need that.”

“Me?” he huffed, holding it out to her. “You're the one who drank too much.”

“Yeah, but you have to drive,” she said, pulling her keys out next. 

“I'm driving?”

“You didn't drink.”

He sighed, taking one last look at himself in the mirror. Thankfully, he was his usual, pale self. “Fine. You're doing the talking though.”

Betty nodded, taking his hand in hers as she pulled him out through a quiet hallway, typing away on her phone as they walked.

They stopped just by a door, waiting for Cheryl to appear.

“Betty, dear, where are you taking this vagabond?”

Betty squeezed his hand as she smiled at Cheryl. “The noise is making my head hurt and Juggie and I were in the mood for food.”

Cheryl frowned. “I thought you were sleeping over.”

“I’ll be back,” Betty promised. “Do you want anything from Pop's?”

Cheryl looked between them before smiling sweetly at Betty as she procured a few bills seemingly out of thin air. “Bring me the usual.”

Betty nodded, pulling Cheryl in for a one-armed hug before she opened the door, leading Jughead outside.

He sighed happily at the cold air, closing his eyes for a few seconds. “I can feel her watching us,” Jughead mumbled, opening his eyes. He glanced down at Betty. “Is this okay?”

She nodded. “I'm usually the awkward one out, she understands.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, loosening the cap on the water in his hands before he took a few sips. “Why do you have this?” he asked, holding the bottle up to see half of the liquid remaining.

“I thought it'd be a good thing to keep in my purse,” she admitted with a shrug. “Do you disagree?”

“Nope.” He shook his head, taking another sip. “Betty Cooper, always the boy scout.”

She laughed, nodding her head. “And I see you're still the sardonic lug I remember.” She unlocked the car, pulling him towards where the lights flashed. 

“I give you permission to shoot me if I ever change,” he teased, snatching the keys from her hand. 

She rolled her eyes. “A world without your melodrama-”

“Is that really a world you want to live in?”

Betty hummed. “You have me there.”

He chuckled, pulling her door open for her.

She kissed his cheek before taking her seat, tugging the door closed once she was inside.

He ignored the blush creeping up the back of his neck as he rounded the hood of the car, climbing into the driver's seat. He looked over at Betty when he could barely fit his legs in. “Jesus, Cooper, how short are you?”

“Hey,” she said sternly as she leaned back in her seat. “In my defence, you're a tree.”

“Yeah, okay.” He pushed the seat back before turning over the engine, carefully peeling away from Thornhill.

-

Jughead looked down at the black cup of coffee sitting in front of him.

Betty sipped at her milkshake. 

The silence wasn't...awkward, but it didn't exactly feel comfortable either.

Their waitress set a plate down in front of both of them before turning and walking off.

Jughead cleared his throat as he picked up a French fry, watching Betty glanced up at him. “So, am I going to need to call a cab after I drop you off?”

She shook her head. “I threw everything up. I'll probably be okay to drive after we eat.”

He nodded, biting the fry so he didn't say anything else.

“I'll drop you off at home.”

He hesitated for a second before nodding again. Betty knew he lived on the Southside, but she had never been to his trailer.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She frowned.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Seriously, it's just been a weird night.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, it has been.”

“Thanks for sitting with me.”

“You held my hair while I threw up.” Betty shrugged a shoulder, popping a fry into her mouth. “It was only fair.”

He hummed, leaning back against the seat as he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Aren’t we a pair?”

She chuckled. “Hey, party breakdowns are the quickest form of bonding.”

His smile slipped as he looked down at the table top.

“What?”

He shrugged a shoulder.

“Juggie,” she said, her voice soft and encouraging. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” He looked down at his lap. “In my head, we’d already bonded, you just-” He paused, wetting his lips.  _ No that was too mean. _

“Say it.”

His eyes flicked up to hers, confused when he found a look of acceptance on her face. He frowned, taking a sip of his milkshake as he tried to formulate the best way to continue. “You just got tired of hanging with a couple of losers...and then Archie did the same thing.” Jughead laughed to himself. “Scratch that; maybe I’m just the loser.”

She frowned. “Jug-”

He shook his head, silencing her. “Don’t. I’ve always been a loser and I really don’t have any interest in trying to change it.”

Betty snickered, smiling softly when he looked up at her. “Never thought I’d see the day Jughead Jones bothered with popularity.”

“Hey, I never said I’d try to change my status as weirdo, I was just  _ complaining _ .”

She hummed, nodding her head. “I thought your usual line was  _ observing, not complaining _ .”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but this is you.”

Betty smiled smugly. “Are you saying I’m special?”

With all the seriousness he could muster, he maintained eye contact as he nodded.

She didn’t seem prepared for that answer. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft as if she didn’t totally believe him.

In her defence,  _ he _ couldn’t believe he nodded. He may have been in love with her ever since he could remember, but he never imagined saying it- or something  _ adjacent _ to it -to her face. 

He shrugged.

She reached her hand over the table, holding her palm up. She wiggled her fingers when he looked down at her hand, silently encouraging him to touch her.

Hesitantly, he reached out for her hand. He relaxed at the faint buzzing he felt thrum through him when her skin touched his, glancing up at her as her fingers curled around his. Her hand was warm below his.

“Can we be friends again?” she asked, a large hopeful smile on her lips.

His eyes went wide as they flicked up to hers. He wanted to say something- anything, literally  _ anything _ -but he couldn’t force himself to open his mouth. His heart broke when her smile seemed to slip at his non-answer. “Yes,” he finally blurted out, startling her- as well as himself.

Her answering smile made his heart flutter.

He silently prayed his hand wasn’t too sweaty.

“Good,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Next Halloween we’re going as Mia and Vincent.”

Jughead hummed happily, leaning back in his seat.  _ Pulp Fiction _ had been a collective journey into cinema in Archie’s room late one summer night, somewhere around the beginning of middle school. Archie had been passed out between them as they watched, sleeping through gunshots and shouting and pieces of popcorn thrown back and forth between them. He smiled at the memory. “Okay.”

“Post-OD,” she clarified, grinning when his eyes widened a little in surprise.

“Really?”

She nodded. “You know I’m all about the beast within.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://literatiruinedme.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
